


Mālama (To Care For)

by that_1_incident



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Cargument, Couch Cuddles, Episode: s02e14 Pu’olo (The Package), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Partners to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_1_incident/pseuds/that_1_incident
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember the final scene of 2x14, "Pu'olo (The Package)," when Danny's at the hospital gazing forlornly at newborn baby Charlie and Steve pops up like a Pop Tart and suggests they go get food? Yeah, this is the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mālama (To Care For)

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, up until like a month ago, I had never even watched this show. Now the theme song is my ringtone, so it's safe to say my life has gone considerably off the rails. Send help.

"So, what's up, babe? What's wrong?"

They've been at the bar for a while now, talking about this and that, and while Danny had appreciated Steve not being pushy, he knew his partner would say something at some point. After all, that's the whole reason they ended up here. 

"Nothing. I mean, what could be better, right?" Danny smiles tightly. "My wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy today. Absolutely nothing wrong with that."

Steve doesn't say anything, choosing to eye him calmly instead. Danny knows what he's doing: It's an interrogation tactic intended to encourage persons of interest to fill the silence, hopefully with information related to a case. Danny's not going to fall for it. 

He takes a swig of beer, gazes back at Steve for an indeterminate amount of time... and then falls for it. 

"Only thing is -" He laughs a little hysterically. "Only thing is she's not my wife anymore, and he's not my baby, but I was there for all twelve hours of the delivery anyway, and the kicker - you know what the kicker is, Steve? Some guy at the hospital who's _actually_ a new father happens to think the kid has my nose."

Steve does that lopsided thing with his mouth that makes Danny inexplicably irritated. "In other words, same old, same old?"

Danny barks out a laugh in spite of himself. "Exactly." 

He really doesn't want to talk about this. 

"You wrap up the case?"

Steve snorts derisively. "Look who you're talking to. Tight as a Christmas gift, babe."

Danny gives him a nod of acknowledgement that's perfunctory enough to avoid seeming overly impressed. Steve's ego doesn't need the stroking. 

"Put it this way: Sang Min's gonna be making a lot of haole friends over on the mainland."

Danny raises an eyebrow. "He rolled on Nicky Chang?"

"He rolled on Nicky Chang," Steve repeats triumphantly, "and got a one-way ticket to Club Fed for his trouble. Oh, _and_..." He leans back casually, his crooked grin blooming into a full smirk. "Joe gave me Shelburne."

This time, Danny raises both eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Steve's beginning to resemble the Cheshire Cat, which Danny finds mildly infuriating. 

"Uh, way to bury that minor piece of information all evening. So?"

"So?" Steve parries. 

"Steven," Danny says sternly, "I'm not in the mood to go on a damn fact-finding mission just because you feel like being coy." 

"So… he's nobody."

Danny throws up his hands, almost knocking over his beer in the process. "What did I _just say to you_ , you _impossible human being_?"

Steve's eyes twinkle, a sure sign that he got the rise he was looking for - and, yeah, wow, Danny probably should've seen that coming. 

"Joe and my dad - they made up Shelburne as a diversion. The guy Wo Fat's been looking for all these years doesn't exist."

Danny's silent for a few seconds, letting Steve's words sink in. "OK, but _someone_ killed Wo Fat's father."

"Yeah, that'd be Joe."

Steve's expression remains concertedly neutral, but Danny picks up on a shift in his partner's demeanor nonetheless. It makes sense, Danny thinks to himself. Steve had Joe up on a pedestal for a while there. 

Danny toys with his bottle of Longboard, watches the liquid swish inside the colored glass. 

"You OK?" he asks carefully, trying to keep his tone light. 

"You and me..." Steve shrugs at him with one shoulder. "We both had weird days."

"You got that right, babe."

Danny glances at the clock above the bar, which is shaped like an actual longboard and has the beer's logo boldly stamped where the clock face is. He kind of wants to try to find one on eBay after he gets himself a new apartment free of mold and ghosts of dead residents. 

"You want a ride home?" he asks. 

Steve pushes a couple of bills across the bar, waves off the proffered change, and heads for the exit. 

"First of all, Danny, you're more drunk than I am. Second of all, I always drive."

"We drank the same amount!" Danny protests, walking quickly to keep up with Steve's long strides. 

"Yeah, but…"

When Steve reaches the front door, he gallantly holds it open for Danny, who narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

"But what, Steven?"

"You're shorter than me." 

"I'm _what_?"

Danny stands his ground, hands on his hips, looking immensely put out, and Steve shrugs in a _suit yourself_ kind of way before heading through the doorway himself. He slips his hand into Danny's pocket as he passes, and emerges into the cool night air with the keys to the Camaro dangling from his fingers. 

Danny hates him. 

"You know, that level of intimacy is not OK," Danny blusters, storming after him. "You're technically my boss. I could sue you for sexual harassment."

"Do you feel harassed?" Steve counters coolly, then strolls over to the driver's-side door while Danny's struggling to formulate some semblance of a response. "Hey, look at that, you get shotgun."

What an animal. 

\--

Even if Danny _had_ been more inebriated than Steve (not that either of them got drunk, per se, just a little buzzed), the fact that Steve drives like a bat out of hell when he's stone cold sober should've been enough to put Danny behind the wheel by default - but try telling that to his partner. 

"That was a red light," Danny moans as they whoosh through an intersection. It could just be the glare of the street lights, but he's pretty sure his knuckles are white. 

"If it just turned red, it doesn't count," Steve says confidently, and Danny kind of wants to punch him in the mouth.

"That's not how the law works, Steve. That's not one of the goddamn rules of the road. If you take a second to consider my profession, I think you'll find I know what I'm talking about here."

Steve looks at him with an incredulous expression on his face, and Danny points frantically in front of them. 

"Eyes on the _road_ , oh my God."

"You do realize you're a detective and not a traffic cop, right? What, is that how you started out in Jersey? Because I gotta say, Danno, I can't picture you in one of those uniforms."

Danny grits his teeth. 

\--

It isn't until they make a left onto Steve's street that Danny realizes Steve isn't dropping him off at the motel - and, more to the point, that he probably never intended to. 

"You are an actual savage, you know that? I could make a kidnapping case out of this." 

"And I could make you sleep on those quote-unquote clean motel sheets tonight, but I'm not going to," Steve shoots back. 

Danny sighs as they pull into Steve's driveway, then reluctantly unbuckles his seat belt. What kills him is that Steve makes a fair point about the sheets. He's really gotta find a place sooner rather than later. 

"Don't pretend you don't miss my couch, babe," Steve teases, swinging his long legs out of the car and selecting his house key from Danny's key chain. "Come in and sleep it off." 

\--

When Danny wakes up, he's on Steve's couch with a chenille throw on top of him and a heavy warmth on his shoulder. Steve might be a Neanderthal, but at least he's civilized enough to hook his houseguests up with blankets. 

Danny shifts, turns his head slightly, and almost bumps noses with Steve. Well, that would explain the shoulder thing. 

"Jesus," he whispers, and Steve opens his eyes, looking surprised.

"Danny?" His voice is scratchy from sleep. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Danny hisses. "You've got a perfectly good bed upstairs."

Steve pushes his palm against Danny's chest to hoist himself upright, and Danny can't believe this guy. Who gave him the _right_ \- 

"It's too far," Steve says decisively, flopping back down again.

"It's too - I'm sorry?" Danny splutters.

"Away, Danny." Steve nudges his nose into the side of Danny's neck, and Danny is _absolutely_ \- he doesn't even know _what_ he is at this point. "It's too far away. It's upstairs, we're downstairs, you're warm."

He closes his eyes and Danny boggles at him. 

"I'm not doing this," Danny mutters, attempting to disentangle himself from the blanket, and Steve stills him with a shockingly swift, muscular arm across his chest. 

"Steve -"

"Shhh." 

Steve's eyes have been closed throughout their exchange, as if calming a thrashing Danny isn't a task he needs his vision for, and Danny's so flustered that he stops moving, which is probably exactly what Steve was banking on happening in the first place. 

"You good?" Steve murmurs after a few moments, his breath hot on Danny's skin.

As Danny opens his mouth to respond, it strikes him that this whole situation isn't entirely unpleasant, nor does he feel as weird about it as he probably should. 

He gingerly slides an arm around Steve's shoulders.

"Yeah," he breathes, and he means it.


End file.
